


this empire of rust

by magisterequitum



Category: Psy-Changeling - Nalini Singh
Genre: Gen, Post-Series, mentions of others - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterequitum/pseuds/magisterequitum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the announcement that Silence will fall, Nikita prepares for her next move. </p><p>'She reaches for the envelope, feels the familiar weight and shape of a data crystal inside. It cannot be left alone here to be seen by anyone. There are few who can be trusted, and she's no fool.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	this empire of rust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spyglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyglass/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! I wanted to work in several things from your request, and hope that this treat works for you!

San Francisco spreads out before her in a glittering display of lights and streets, a map of towering buildings and water and far off greenery that cannot be seen in the absence of daylight. 

When she had moved her operations to her base here in San Francisco, buying out this very building and gutting it to be rebuilt as she wanted, she had carefully selected her office to have this view. Not a thing to be said aloud but she had. So very high up till she could see it all. 

If she holds her hand out, the city rests in her palm, perfectly cupped and _hers_. 

Nikita's face does not change from its smooth blank slate, but there is something there that makes her pulse quicken and that smooth slate is as sharp as a knife. 

 

 

 

Max Shannon gives her the envelope while she's reading the reports from Hong Kong and Geneva. 

"You can leave it there," Nikita tells him, tapping the knuckles of her free hand on her desk. She does not bother to look up. There's no need. He'll do as she says even if his mouth tightens at the corner in a move she knows he thinks she doesn't see or register. 

The office door closes with a small click. 

The data on her tablet details the losses in both Pure Psy incidents. Documented also is the expenditures from her assistance: the cost of jet fuel, the diverted attention to that area instead of the sales originally planned, the cancellation of meetings. Too soon to tell whether the losses will be outweighed by any moral image improvement. 

Every little ploy counted, carefully calculated. She has never been one to deny an advantage. 

Her eyes stray over the top of the tablet. The thick envelope is no longer than the length of her elbow to wrist and no wider than her palm. Brown, non descriptive. 

There is no address on it. 

 

 

 

Her contributions are no true loss and they can easily be made up. 

Nikita watches the message from Krychek scroll across every media station. There is no where it will not be seen or heard. Her symbol is tiny below, but it is there and it shines bright. 

She eyes the dark city outside the windows as a noise chimes from her desk. A message on the tablet she keeps for personal matters. Matters that need only be known by her and can be destroyed with a single command. 

_'We should meet.'_

She reaches for the envelope, feels the familiar weight and shape of a data crystal inside. It cannot be left alone here to be seen by anyone. There are few who can be trusted, and she's no fool. 

_'Tomorrow'_ she responds and pockets the crystal for later. 

 

 

 

"This was your daughter's compound."

It should feel strange, the word "daughter", on her tongue. She has spent so long biting her own tongue and refusing the word to be said aloud where too many could hear it. Even if her vocal chords and throat find it foreign, the word still resounds enough inside her mind. There it can rest behind so many shields and traps, hidden away, and that is already too much to even think on. 

"We have not used it for another F-Psy. People believe it to be empty." 

A perfect place then for their meetings. A reason for why he had chosen it for months now. 

Anthony stays faced away from her as he answers her hidden query. The greenery and light from outside touch the silver of his hair, make his temples gleam for a moment. Though Shoshanna Scott had always been the professional face of the Council, Anthony Kyriakus could have done well at the job too. 

"What are we to do about Krychek?" Nikita asks, forcing the discussion back to what he must have requested their meeting for. 

He tips his chin at her, shifting to finally look at her directly. "He has grown very powerful. Perhaps the most." A concession that rings only with truth. 

"He has the Arrows." 

He nods his head again, but blinks before saying, "But only in name. The Arrows will no longer defer as they did under Ming." 

"But they still will do as he says within reason. Dangerous." She turns in her polished heels, the soles sinking into the carpet beneath her feet. Her suit pants remain untouched, cut perfectly to the exact height requirement. 

"I agree," Anthony casts a look to the window before conceding another point. "But there is little to be done at that. They will do as they want for now." 

A sour thought that her mind does not like. Control has been hers for decades. The Council had never shared equally no matter what its front to the public and the other races had been. She leaves it to be tucked away for the present. "Ming is a problem." 

"He will be dealt with soon." 

_'How?'_ she asks, switching to telepathy. They have maintained a link between them, since they joined their alliance. 

_'Faith has told me.'_ is his answer, swift and curt. 

His daughter's name again. Her fingers brush inside the pocket of her coat. There's an uneven weight distribution, the right side heavier than the left. Minute but noticeable. 

Anthony's gaze remains fixated on her, and though his face remains as even and smooth as hers, she has the impression that he is deciding something. _'Faith tells me of Sascha.'_

She blinks because she had not anticipated that, but then a heartbeat later she has composed herself inside to match her polished exterior. "You should mind who you tell these things." Her voice icy and even. "We shall wait for now to see what happens next." 

A defense ready and waiting to shift fluidly into offense when needed. 

Anthony only nods at her again. 

 

 

 

San Francisco's lights turn on in clumped spaces as the sun disappears and darkness takes over again. 

The data crystal's contents load onto her private tablet, the actual physical crystal destroyed now. A small weight in her hand, the tablet rests on her palm, waiting for her to look down. 

Her lineage traces centuries back to a land where empires and their rules had come and gone. Her family line itself has always stood resolute; their secrets are buried in vaults but they have always been there and have always been something. This city, stretched out before her with its glimmering lights and three races amongst it, is hers. She has fastened it and created it and shaped it as masterfully as any chess player. She controls it.

Nikita holds her free hand out, lets it all rest on her palm. She is alone. She can do this here in the dark of her office and only her own breathing as noise. 

A chime and the contents are complete in their assimilation. 

Green curious gaze in a small face and skin darker than her own, but a familiar shape in the cheekbones and eyes. Tiny and fragile. The sight burns itself to her memory, stored behind those shields. 

She remains and she is relentless, unyielding, and this shall be hers.


End file.
